Crimson and Silver
by Tazmy
Summary: In an instant, everything changes. Henry isn't sure whether Shawn is heroic or just stupid. Jerry's not sure either, but it doesn't matter. Either way, he needs to cover his tracks. Tag to Santabarbaratown. Huge spoilers for the episode.


**Crimson and Silver**

When Jerry joined the academy he entertained ideas of serving others before self. He dreamed of the days when he would keep the city safe by sending criminals behind bars. It was the natural career choice. After all, his own father was a police officer and a fine one to boot.

Not like Jerry.

Jerry knew the exact day everything started going wrong, but what did that matter without a time machine to fix the past? What was done, was done. As the years drew on, he learned to minimize his crimes. It was necessary, he told himself, for family and future. A few years of playing dirty was nothing compared to decades of clean service. He tried not to think about his seaside home as the product of wrongdoing but rather the success of years of doing right. With no one there to contradict him, it didn't take much convincing.

Until Henry visited with the bad news.

"_I never told you how much they were being paid."_

Jerry saw the scene in flashes. His wife-near death. His children-parents now. He had so much to lose. More than anything else in the world, he couldn't let them know what he'd done. At the very least, his wife would go the grave believing he was good and honest. Even if it meant descending deeper into darkness.

His gun fired. _He _fired his gun.

Years of friendship.

Years of family gatherings.

Years of service.

All of it shattered in an instant.

Jerry fought back sobs. He had to be strong. _He_'d fired his gun. _He'd_ pulled the trigger and now there was no going back.

His wife, wonderful woman as she was, might never know he was dirty, but his hands would never be cleansed of Henry's blood.

Crimson oozed. Henry lay motionless, but as Jerry leaned low toward the body, he felt Henry's breath. Jerry trembled.

"I'm sorry, Henry."

Tears clouded his vision as he lifted the gun a second time, ready to finish what he started. He could hide the body-_Henry'_s body-and no one would ever know. No one would _need_ to know.

"Dad!"

At first Jerry didn't register the distant cry. His finger curled near the trigger and stopped.

"Shawn?" he whispered.

He remembered dinners with the Spencers. He remembered the boy with attitude but smarts. He remembered so many visits to the station where Henry showed Shawn the brilliance of police work. Jerry had explained to Shawn that the true reward lay in catching the villain.

Now Jerry was the villain. With horror, he imagined the world from Shawn's eyes-witnessing a long time family friend raising his weapon and killing his dad.

Jerry knew he needed to react. He'd already offed one Spencer. He couldn't turn back now. He couldn't let his family know about the man he'd become...the demon in their midst.

He swung around, gun aimed and at the ready. "Stay back!" he ordered.

The young Spencer skidded to a halt. "Whoa," Shawn replied, his voice breaking. A single silver tear traced down the kid's cheek.

_The kid_. No, that wasn't right. The man standing before him wasn't a boy. He was taller than Jerry, with a man's chin and a man's gaze. Shawn was all grown now, no longer trapped under his father's heavy hand.

The gun shook in Jerry's arm. "You shouldn't have come here."

"He trusted you!" Anger flared in Shawn's eyes. "He let you in our house, man. He drank beer with you. He..."

Suddenly, Shawn pushed forward, a crazed man oblivious to the threat before him. In an instant he knelt by his father. "Hold on. Hold on." He shivered slightly; his speech quickened. "You promised me a beer and don't you dare think I'm going to let you out of this. Not after all the years it took to fix everything. You are not getting out of this, you hear me!"

Jerry remained frozen, his gun still aimed. He'd expected Shawn to stay back. He'd expected Shawn to try and talk him down, just as Henry had done. He wasn't sure if Shawn was crazy, stupid, or simply insane, but watching the burst of emotions kept Jerry's finger free of the trigger better than any words could.

Henry moaned softly as Shawn pressed harder, pushing all his weight desperately onto the wound.

Encouraged by the sudden movement, Shawn continued, his words racing so fast that one trampled into the other. "I'm not letting you die. I need you here to give me bad advice and to butt into my work and personal life just because you are old and have nothing better to do. I need you to tell me what an idiot I am, so I can pretend I already knew better because let's face it, I don't always do things right.

"You've always been there to set me straight and make me memorize all those stupid hats. I thought you were just controlling and mean, but I kind of get it now. You got that? I _get_ it now. I'm not angry at you anymore."

Jerry felt like a voyeur. He had known the Spencers for so many decades. Through all the tumultuous times from Henry arresting Shawn to Shawn leaving town without telling anyone. He hadn't realized father and son were now so close.

Sickness roiled in Jerry's gut. The gun lowered.

Jerry was a monster. A demon. A dirty cop and a killer. Never, ever had he imagined this day could come.

Henry mumbled something, but it was too soft for Jerry to understand. It was clear Shawn heard, however, because a brief chuckle broke through the grief and panic.

"Okay, yeah, I'm still mad at you for _that_. Not to mention stealing my pineapple last night. Not cool, by the way, I was saving that for a special occasion."

Henry muttered something else, grimacing from the pain.

"Unbelievable. You've just been shot and you're still trying to lecture me. You have serious problems, you know that?"

"Ignoring...guy..gun...idiot," Henry replied, this time loud enough for Jerry to hear.

Reality pressed into Jerry as tightly as Shawn continued pressing into Henry's wound. It didn't matter if Jerry wanted to shoot or not. It only mattered that he finished what he started. He couldn't lose everything.

"Shawn," Jerry whispered, aiming his weapon, hoping the man would turn around. It somehow felt more wrong to just shoot him in the back.

If Shawn heard Jerry, he didn't show it. Shawn existed in his own world, desperate to save the father he clearly loved. The two argued and quipped about whether Shawn was stupid or heroic to ignore the gun traced on him, but neither of them paid any attention to the man actually holding that gun.

"Shawn!" Jerry tried, this time louder, only to be ignored again. He'd give Shawn another second but then he'd have to shoot.

"SBPD. Drop your weapon, now!"

Lost in what he had to do, Jerry failed to see the detective before it was too late. A siren bellowed from the distance. Strange, he hadn't noticed it until now.

"Lassiter." He'd known the detective once, but it'd been at least a decade. As a rookie, Lassiter exhibited a sharp mind and quick reflexes. A lot like Henry, really.

_Henry_.

It was amazing how one instant could destroy a man.

"It's over, Carp. It's time to end this. Put your gun down, nice and slow." Disdain painted Lassiter's face. If Jerry provided any opportunity to shoot, Lassiter gladly would. Jerry shivered, but whether from fear or self-disgust, he wasn't sure.

It was over. There was nothing to be gained by more killing. His wife would die knowing she married a monster. His kids would live in a traitor's shadow.

The gun fell loosely from his grip. Tight hands grabbed his own as silver clasped tightly around his wrists.

"Thanks, Lassie," Shawn whispered, exhaustion clearly taking over. Blobs of sweat drenched his crimson stained shirt and pants.

"Took..long...enough," Henry muttered.

Sirens bellowed in the distance as paramedics and officers arrived at the scene, all ready to share in Jerry's humiliation. While they worked, Jerry stared at his friend and the blood oozing from his wound. He could almost believe it wasn't real. _Almost._

As the image embossed itself into Jerry's mind, he wondered if maybe he should have given Lassiter the opportunity to shoot. It would have been easier than reliving this night, over and over again, in a lonely prison cell.

It seemed to only take a second for the paramedics to assess the situation, lift Henry onto the stretcher and then cart him off. In that second, father and son exchanged few words, but Jerry could see a silent conversation was taking place.

Relieved of his father, Shawn stared into the distance, trembling slightly. He focused on the blood-drenched sand and his blood-drenched clothes.

Still holding tight to his suspect, Lassiter called softly, "Spencer?"

No reply.

"I'm going to take this scum in. Guster and O'Hara are on their way. They can drive you to the hospital."

Still no reply.

"Spencer!" Lassiter called loudly, but Shawn did not move. Then calmer, "Your father is tough."

The words seemed awkward, unsure, but the sentiment stood, reflected in each pair of eyes at the scene. These people all knew and cared for Henry, but they also clearly cared for his son. His hurt was their hurt and this truth stung Jerry deeper than he cared to admit. He wanted to say something, anything to make it all better, but it would only come across as empty.

In training they always warned officers to watch the quiet ones. A motionless figure could be a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any second. In that moment of calm, when everything seemed under control, that's when it all exploded.

One moment, quiet. The next, Shawn swung around, fury blazing.

"If he dies," Shawn spat, his voice shaking with anger and fear, "I-"

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted, breaking through the possible threat.

Shawn's cold stare turned to Lassiter and softened briefly. He nodded, as though coming to his senses, realizing the stupidity of what he almost said in an area full of witnesses. He walked back a few steps, before pausing stiffly.

Lassiter pulled back on Jerry's arm, and Jerry moved to follow. Shawn watched, fury returning

Suddenly, Shawn lunged forward.

There was a brief flash of Shawn's fist followed by pain and sudden black. Beside Jerry, Lassiter gave a short curse before tripping backwards under Jerry's weight. The two fell to the ground.

Jerry blinked, taking only a moment to come back to his senses. Drenched in sweat, Shawn allowed two officers to pull him back. Pure hatred, fear, and anger emanated from Shawn's very core. A second later, his shoulders slackened. His pained gaze turned away from Jerry. "If he dies..." Shawn repeated, this time even and slow before allowing his sentence to drift off.


End file.
